


You and I

by oftennot



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, Dungeons & Dragons Campaign, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27117703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oftennot/pseuds/oftennot
Summary: If Birdie and Galen had met as children.
Relationships: Birdie Morlas/Galen Zankyri
Kudos: 4
Collections: Salty Nein Fics





	You and I

**Author's Note:**

> For my wonderful DM, Ginger.

**11 & 9**

Galen huffs and crosses his arms. He is not at all pouting. Acorn gives him one of her looks and even though he's got a few inches on her now, she still manages to make it look threatening. "You're comin' whether ya like it or not, kid."

"This is so boring though. I wanna do more training, not watch a stupid performance!" 

"This is part of your training," Acorn says but gives no further explanation. She's already started walking to the town square. 

Galen rolls his eyes and makes a rude gesture to her retreating back, then begrudgingly follows after her. The square is brightly lit with colorful streamers crisscrossing in the air. The smell of roasted meats and freshly baked bread fill the area. Nearby bonfires and the gathered crowd make the night warm. There's already music ongoing, the sound of drums and flutes traveling down the alley he and Acorn emerge from. A wall of people separate them from the show, but Acorn pushes through the people like water and Galen races to keep up with her.

What appears to be a family occupies the center stage. A man stands at the front, one hand over his chest and the other gesturing to the crowd as his voice flows over the audience, melting like butter on bread. A woman is next to him, her hands tapping on a drum, feet moving with the beat. A young boy plays a flute, his face furrowed in concentration, small fingers struggling with the notes.

Galen is starting to think that okay, maybe this isn't so bad, when another form dances past him. It's a young girl around his age. Her dark hair is styled in pigtails that fly around as she spins on the edge of the crowd. Her hands are full with a violin. She appears a bit breathless, but her smile is wide and blinding and her cheeks flushed a lovely red. She spots Galen in the crowd winks at him. He feels his own cheeks darken in response.

"Not bad, eh, kid?" Acorn laughs.

**16 & 14**

Galen is not nervous. Why would he be? He has no reason to be nervous. He's not.

"You look nervous, kiddo."

His eyebrow twitches at Acorn's knowing grin. "Shut up." 

"Don't see why you're antsy about meeting up with the Morlas family. We've met them plenty of times before," his mentor says casually, taking a bite out of an apple as she lounges in a tavern chair. "Unless..." Galen can feel his cheeks warming up and his shoulders hunch in response. Acorn points a finger at him, grin too wide. "You're worried about seeing a certain gal again."

"It's not--"

"Hi, Galen!" A familiar voice cuts in from behind. He totally doesn't yelp and jolt in his seat. His hair is whipping around worse than trees in a storm and he tries to will it under control. He's building up the courage to turn around and _say something, you idiot,_ when Birdie beats him to it and pops around to face him.

"Alright, Galen?" She's grown. They both have. (Not that he's been counting the inches he's sprouted in the last year.) But she is older than him, as she loves to constantly lord over him. She looks less like a child and more like the young woman she will soon become. Her hair is no longer in her classic pigtails and instead cascades freely down her back. The neck of her violin peaks over her shoulder. At least that hasn't changed.

Galen realizes he's been staring like some kind of dolt when her face creases in concern, eyes darting across his face.

"Your hair--" he blurts out. "It's gotten longer."

Kord, take him now. 

Birdie giggles, smiling as she looks down briefly. Her fingers idly play with her locks. "Oh, thanks. It's a new style I'm trying out. D'ya like it?" She glances back up at him. 

"No! I mean--yes! Uh, yeah, sure." He nods, looking anywhere but Birdie and _especially_ Acorn.

Birdie laughs. "You're funny, Galen. I like it."

He wants to frown, but the sound of her laughter makes his lips twitch up in a smile.

**22 and 20**

Birdie finishes her song with a flourish, whipping her bow out to the side and bowing. The crowd erupts into applause. She smiles, her chest burning in that good, breathless way she feels after a performance. She quickly exits the stage, allowing the next act to set up. 

She makes her way over to a table in the back of the tavern. She's searching through her pack for something to wipe up the sweat that accumulated on her brow when a handkerchief is suddenly thrust in front of her face. Birdie startles. Her eyes travel up the arm holding out the proffered cloth. A familiar _blue_ arm.

A smile is already sprouting on her face and she turns to greet her old friend. "Galen--"

Breath escapes her once more, but for a completely different reason. He's taller, much taller. At their current proximity Birdie has to tilt her head to meet his eyes properly. Admittedly she's having trouble doing that at the moment. Her own, wide and disbelieving, rover over the man in front of her. Familiar yet unlike the young boy she knew before. His chest and shoulders have filled out. His face has slimmed and his features are more defined, but his boyish smile remained the same. Birdie focuses on that because everything else is overwhelming to take in all at once.

"Hey, Birdie," he grins at her. His voice is deeper. "You gonna use this or are you gonna leave me hanging?"

"Right, sorry," she blinks, snatching up the cloth and wiping her face. She's probably a sweaty mess right now. "It's good to see you, Galen. It's been ages. How'd you know I was performing?"

"I heard your violin," he answers, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Of course I came to see."

"I hope you liked what you saw." 

"I did." 

Birdie blushes and hides it behind his handkerchief. "Well," she clears her throat. "Care to buy me a drink?"

"My pleasure." Her eyes stay trained on his back as he heads to the bar. She swallows. 

_Oh, Birdie, you're in trouble._

**27 and 25**

He's sits in the corner of the room, arms perched on his knees and back hunched. His hair hides his face. For once it's not swirling around like it usually does, but is eerily close to being still. Lifeless. It's not like Galen. Birdie's hand bunches into a fist as she stands by the bed, staring and feeling so bloody helpless. 

He entered through her window in the middle of the night. She awoke to the sound of his heavy breathing--close to sobs but no actual tears were shed. He hadn't told her much, but it was enough for her to fill in the blanks. Something had gone terribly wrong on his last mission and his master had paid the price. 

"It's all my fault," he whispers again, repeating the sentiment over and over. He feels so far from her in this moment, his grief heavy and thick in the air. She wonders if he would hear her if she spoke to him.

He came to her. His feet carried him to her room despite the fear and unshed tears blinding him. He needs her. Galen _needs_ her, more than ever. So Birdie crosses the gulf separating them and kneels beside him. An arm hugs his shoulder while her hand gently cups his face. He puts up no resistance and allows Birdie to guide him out of the shroud surrounding him and back to her. 

"I'm here with you, okay?" She says, lacing it with all the faith and conviction she posses. Galen is better with faith than her, but for him she will try. "I'm not going anywhere. You have me."

He doesn't say anything at first. His eyes are unfocused and bloodshot. The longer he looks at her the more they clear. Eventually a few locks of hair stir. "Birdie," he whispers and collapses into her arms, face buried in her chest. 

She holds him tight, one hand coaxing his hair along. He cries and she lets him. He did the same for her, not so long ago.

**30 and 28**

Birdie's fingers ache when they press on the strings of her violin. Sweat runs down her face and her bow arm shakes. She continues playing, allowing the magic to coalesce and move through her then out into the world. Her eyes track Galen as he fights. His fists fly through the air. He dips and weaves through the attackers and they fall one by one. She watches a dagger nick his side and draw blood. He doesn't pause in his assault, a brief grimace his only reaction. Birdie sings and the wound stitches itself together as if it were never there. 

He doesn't turn to look at her and she doesn't dwell on the moment. Thousands like it have happened before. This is a familiar dance for them, one they've rehearsed endlessly. Galen knows when to duck and jump out of range as Birdie unleashes a spell in the middle of their assailants. Birdie can read when Galen's stamina begins to lag and she says a few words of encouragement to give a needed boost to his step. They're a well oiled machine. They know how to watch each other's backs and cover their blind spots, lest they leave an opening for attack. 

Within minutes the last of the enemies have been subdued and it's only Birdie and Galen left standing, back to back. It's quiet in the aftermath save for the sound of their labored breathing, coming down from the high of the fight. Birdie sighs and leans against Galen, the tension leaving her body. 

"Nothing like a good workout, eh?"

She feels the rumble in his chest as he chuckles. "I'd say that was a little more than a workout." 

Birdie giggles and turns around, arms encircling his waist. "Getting slow in your old age?"

"Tch," Galen turns in her arms to face her. "You're older than me." 

One hand cups her face and he stoops down. She stands on her toes to meet him. This too is familiar. Like breathing.


End file.
